


he kindly stopped for me

by badgerterritory



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, someone dies but she doesn't STAY dead so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6170839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgerterritory/pseuds/badgerterritory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I didn’t want to breathe until you woke up,” Clarke said eventually. “I tried my hardest.”</p><p>Lexa smiled, as much as she was able, and kissed Clarke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he kindly stopped for me

**Author's Note:**

> i will punch death in the bony pelvis before i let that bastard have my gays

vii.

Lexa blinked twice, utterly disoriented, and glanced around briefly before her eyes fell on Clarke. Clarke, eyes shut, ice still… Lexa reached out towards her, but then Clarke’s eyes opened, just a little, and her chest moved, heaving. She’d been holding her breath.

“I didn’t want to breathe until you woke up,” Clarke said eventually. “I tried my hardest.”

Lexa smiled, as much as she was able, and kissed Clarke.

 

i.

The ground was beautiful to Clarke at first. Even with the death, it was beautiful to her. But as the deaths began piling up, the luster wore off.

She saw so much death, but she was never numbed to it.

She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

 

ii.

Lexa was a surprise in every way. Clarke burned three hundred people, and found one survivor.

The girl was nudging bodies over, tearing off whatever strips of cloth remained to wrap her wounds. Clarke approached carefully, and Lexa glared at her, briefly, before returning to what she was doing. Lexa was burned, but not badly. Black blood dripped from scratches up and down her arms and legs.

Clarke asked her what her name was, and Lexa told her to fuck off.

 

iii.

Saying they took Lexa prisoner would imply that Lexa was, actually, a prisoner, and that she couldn’t simply walk out at any point. It would also imply that Lexa had put up any resistance.

They had walked Lexa into a room, which they then locked. Clarke tried to interrogate her, but Lexa just watched her, haughty and uncaring. Clarke changed tactics, acted nice, and it took three days for Lexa to tell Clarke her name.

After three days, Clarke realized she wasn’t acting nice anymore.

 

iv.

It took three weeks to learn why Lexa hadn’t tried to escape. It happened when one of the younger kids suddenly collapsed. By the time Clarke arrived, she was dead, but then Lexa appeared, and laid hands on the girl, and she was alive again.  The girl was confused, disoriented, babbled about a forest, and Clarke took Lexa back to her room before anyone could react.

Lexa told Clarke that she was a necromancer, someone who could control death, and that set her apart from her people. There were very few necromancers, and even fewer who practiced openly. They were seen as an abomination, a subversion of death. Lexa unwrapped her bandages to show that her long scratches, her burns, were entirely healed.

“I’ve died before,” Lexa said. “But burning was deeply unpleasant.”

 

v.

The girl Lexa brought back to life was named Heather, and she tried to spend every waking moment with Lexa. Clarke supervised. In the morning, Lexa did exercises, and Heather tried to imitate her for a few days. Lexa began to teach her, if only so she didn’t hurt herself.

Others wanted to learn, and Lexa was allowed to leave her room each morning. She taught anyone who would come her exercises, slow, careful, long movements that were designed to train endurance and strength. People came as they were able to, or interested. Only Heather was constant.

And Clarke. Long after people seemed to forget Lexa was a grounder, Clarke stayed and watched, and Lexa watched her watching.

 

vi.

They came for her in the night. Clarke woke when she heard a scream, and followed it to Heather, who was sobbing outside of Lexa’s room. A sword was thrust through her chest, piercing through her makeshift bed into the ground. The hilt rested against Lexa’s chest, and all Clarke could think was,

 _I’ve died before_.

It took considerable effort to pull the sword out, but Clarke was determined. She didn’t know if further damage would kill Lexa permanently, or delay her recovery, so Clarke pulled it free as gently as she could. And then she sat down and waited.


End file.
